


One Ticket Please

by That_One_Fan_Girl



Series: She-ra fics [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Adora, F/F, Human Catra (She-Ra), Lesbian Catra (She-Ra), Making Out, Pianist Adora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Fan_Girl/pseuds/That_One_Fan_Girl
Summary: Her face is plastered on the walls on buildings, I see her on tv and listen to music she plays with her own fingers, still, I’ve heard her voice on talk shows and podcasts but I have never felt like this before.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: She-ra fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773037
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	One Ticket Please

  
I fiddle with the end of my oxy black dress, smoothing out the ends. It sounds silly, but I bought a new dress specifically for this day. My feet hurt from the lack of wearing heels, being jammed into bright red heels I also bought earlier in the week. My hair is combed and curled over my forehead and around the neck. I had to get Scorpia to help me with my make up. I’ll have to thank her again, I wasn’t the nicest and complained the whole time she worked mine on my face. My face is lightly caked in a bronze toner that matches my skin, dark eyeshadow and long lashes and dark crimson lips.

Gold hoops hang from my ears and a bronze stud in my nose. I’m a little embarrassed, I wish I had taken it out beforehand. 

I don’t fit in with the posh figures all dolled up in very conserved outfits and straight postures still like oil paintings on display at a museum. 

I feel stupid holding flowers, a bouquet of Adonis, aster, azalea and carnation. I should have brought red roses. Red roses would tell her what I mean, hell, even ivory roses would tell her well enough. I just had to let Perfuma make a special bouquet. 

The house lights are still as bright as people flood into the theatre. I tuck the bottom half of my dress down as I sit in a red cushioned theatre chair. 

I take out my phone, scrolling through my photos. I stop at an old photo I took of Adora.

It was her ninth birthday, her mom and dad gave her only one present that year, a baby grand. A black and slick piano. It sat where Adora’s grandma’s old couch was. She played it for hours.  
I watched her. From the time the sun went up from the time it went down. Her short gold hair pulled back with a red bow and wearing a pink dress her Nana got her black soaks with orange pumpkins on them and purple witch hats on them. 

I scroll further down to a photo of her at her last school talent show in middle school. Her mom made her wear a jean blue shirtwaist dress with a brown felt belt and shiny red shoes. Her hair was pulled back with a pink headband. Her mom curled her hair. She wore gold hoop earrings. She held a bouquet of red camellia, red carnation and white and yellow chrysanthemums. She had the biggest smile on her face, her braces with pink and red bands on them standing out in her mouth of white teeth.

I frown as I look at the picture. She was so pretty even with how dorky she looked back then. Mine hear squeezes tightly in my chest, I hate that day the most. 

On that day, a talent agent came and picked her out from the rest of the talent. Who the hell comes to a middle school talent show to look for middle school talent? He came and offered her a chance to study music at a school far away from our home town, far away from me. 

I hate her for going. 

We spoke every day during the week and she would even come home on some weekends and every seasonal break she got, but a nearly didn’t recognize her when she started working out and even grew out her hair.

One summer when we were 17, she brought along two friends with her. Glimmer and Bow. Two bubbly figures that had tainted Adora with their dorkiest and bright personalities. 

They bitched and moaned, well _Glimmer_ bitched about some pool party that was happening as a girl’s house. After an hour at the beach, Adora and Bow agreed they wanted to swing by. 

Instead of going to the beach and surfing with me, Adora dragged me to that stupid party with all her artsy and music friends. 

I scroll at the pictures I took that day. It’s the best yet worst day of my life. There had been alcohol at the party, Adora got heavily drunk.

We sat in a circle with Bow, Glimmer, the girl who’s a party it was: Mermista and her boyfriend Seahawk, a blonde boy named Kyle and some other kids I don’t remember. Bow had Glimmer under his arm, same with Mermista in SeaHawk’s lap, Catra could tell they were the only couples In the group. 

The topic of dares came up. Glimmer was dated to lick SeaHawk’s stomach. The group laughed and Glimmer needed another drink.

The blonde boy was dared to be locked in a room with his boyfriend, which by the big guy with the dyed green hair and a dragon tattoo. He was really big and compared to the sting bean blonde, he was a mountain of a man. I knew he was someone I didn’t want to mess with. He left and dragged his boyfriend to the bathroom. Even with music, I could still hear something I wish I could forget.

The bow was dared to chug a glass rum, which was hard to watch. And a girl with short blue hair and pink eyeshadow took a bucket of ice cubes down her pants. Similar to another girl who had to stick her bra in the freezer for an hour then wears it. 

Adora was dared to make out both people sitting next to her. Me and a boy with dark brown hair and dark skin.

She laughed nervously and turned my way with a shy smile and cheeks rosy. She reached over behind my ear, leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. My lips moved against hers’s and I press forward to taste her lips more. 

My lips are cold when she pulls away. It’s like the kiss lasted for only a fleeting moment and I already miss her warm and the taste of her cherry lipgloss she slathers on before coming here.

I’m jealous of seeing her lips on a boy. I hate that she giggles and enjoys it just as much as she enjoyed my lips. 

I have so many pictures of that night. 

I remember the way she snuggled into my shoulder and drooled on my leather jacket. I remember in her drunken, sleepy states, she muttered that she loved me. 

The lights slowly start to darken, I power my phone off and slip it into my jacket pocket. The red curtain starts to slowly open, a bright light in the centre reviling Adora and a slick black grand piano.   
  
Her straight long gold thread hair is freely flowing over her shoulder. She is wearing an admiral blue jabot and black high shaft boots. 

She bows toward the crowd, and they applaud, I go along with them. She seems so calm and collected, she takes her seat and begins to play. 

I feel my heart stop. Her music is soft but passionate in the only way Adora knows how to make it. Her fingers are quick, hand motions swift and controlled. The sound of the keys bounce off the walls of the theatre, I feel my brain numb, I can barely breathe. Her song sounds like a summer breeze, gentle and warm.

Once she’s finished a set, she moves on to another. She plays a song that’s cold as an attic lake on the coldest day, swift and sharp like wind crashing against the sea. 

Suddenly she’s onto a joyous piece, it reminds me of a spring day like when we were kids running around in the grass and making flower crowns and splashing in puddles. 

And like that, it’s over. 

I feel like I can finally breathe again. 

I wipe the tears from my eyes, I didn’t realize I was even crying at all. 

Her face is plastered on the walls on buildings, I see her on tv and listen to music she plays with her own fingers, still, I’ve heard her voice on talk shows and podcasts but I have never felt like this before. 

I stand and head to the doors. I don’t want to wait for another set-piece from another musician. 

I walk backstage, flipping my backstage pass to the bodyguard. Of course, I would pay to see her, I would do anything for her. Finding Adora’s name slotted into the door, I knock. There is silence for a moment, then the door opens. 

I can barely breathe.

She’s even more beautiful then I remember up close. She smiles widely, eyes bright and skin practically glowing. 

“Catra! Why didn’t you tell me you would be visiting New York?” She pulls me in close and hugs me tightly. I missed her hugs.   
  
“Can’t I surprise my best friend?” I say, holding out the flowers her way. 

“Oh Catra, you are so nice,” she says. Adora takes the flowers into a vase sitting by a small desk and mirror. “I wish you had told me, I would have paid with your ticket.” 

“Adora,” I say, stepping closer to her. Her eyes are so blue and lips covered in dry lipstick. 

I step closer to her, close enough until our chests are touching until I've pinned her against the wall. 

”Catra, I can't, ” she whispers. 

I don't listen. I press my lips against her’s. It feels good, it feels right. Her lips are still so soft as they have always been. Her hands grab my arms, her lips pressing against mine. 

The door opens.

Adora shoves harshly against my chest. Her face is hot from embarrassment and she pushed past me. 

”Hey sweety, ” a man says, the door fully open. 

I turn. A man dressed in a black suit and a blue-collar has a boy on his shoulder. The man’s hair is coconut brown and his eyes a warm hazel. He holds a brown paper bag in his other hand. 

The boy has her thread gold hair and blue eyes, and I feel my heart stop. He holds a teddy under his arm and sucks his thumb.

”Bobby, my gosh you are my hero, ” she says. I hear her stomach growl.   
  
Upon seeing his mom, he reaches for her. Adora grabs for him and presses him against her chest, cooing at him. 

”Who’s this, honey?” her husband, Bobby, asks. 

I feel awful.

”I...” I can't find the words. 

”This is Catra, she's my best friend, ” Adora says, sharing with me a smile that gives me a pass. 

”It’s a pleasure, I wish could have met you at our wedding.” He reaches out for a handshake. 

I take it. 

”Can you give me a moment to talk to Catra, I promise, it will only take a minute.” 

”You take all the time you need.” He kisses her cheek and swaps the boy and leaves the bag. 

Adora smiles until the door closes. 

”I didn't know; I am so sorry—”

”Catra, ” Adora says simply. 

She touched my cheek and smiles sadly. She presses her lips against mine softly before pulling away. She's like a ghost. 

”I love you, Catra, ” she whispers. 

”But I can't love you the way I love them. Bobby and Atlas are my everything. And so are you. But I can't love you the way you love me.” 

I feel my heart being broken and burned. I bite my lip to keep me from crying. 

She pulls away and reaches for the paper bag, pulling out a muffin. She holds it out to me. 

”I know you love blueberry.”

I grab the blueberry muffin, I flip it in my hands, I don't dare look at Adora in the eye. ”You played wonderfully tonight, ” I say. 

She grabs my hand and kisses the top of my hand. ”You should come more often.” 

I nod. 

”I will always love you, ” I whisper.

She nods, her fingers slipping from mine, ” I know, ” she says, softly like a whisper.

Like a ghost far out of my reach. 

Forever out of my grasp. I am unable to hold Adora like a lover and I never will. 

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who has read my previous works, I don’t hate Catra, I just want to make her suffer. 
> 
> Okay no, I just love tragedy and making my readers suffer.


End file.
